


Clingy

by BroImLooking



Series: dream smp fics [2]
Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Family Issues, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, This isn't a ship fic they're literally brothers and also children, Tubbo isn't coping well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27930193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroImLooking/pseuds/BroImLooking
Summary: Tubbo wasn't coping well with the absence of his little brother.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Series: dream smp fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161431
Comments: 3
Kudos: 68





	Clingy

Tubbo was clingy.

Tommy hadn’t been exiled for more than a handful of hours, and Tubbo was already struggling to cope. There was a deep, burning ache in the center of his chest, and every breath he took shook with sobs that he barely forced down. His eyes burned with unshed tears. He didn’t want to break down, even in the privacy of his own home.

Before, when Tommy had joked about Tubbo clinging to him, it had been gentle fun, in the teasing way that Tommy always tormented him. It was true that Tubbo was always a shy person, especially compared to his extremely extroverted little brother. Tommy was tall and funny and loud in a way that had always been a steady comfort. He helped Tubbo make friends and stand out, and Tubbo did his best to keep Tommy from pissing too many people off in the process. 

More recently, though, after all they’d been through, Tubbo’s clinginess had taken on a more desperate edge. He had been treating Tommy like an anchor, and the boy had embraced his role happily, in the abrasive way that only Tommy could. When Tubbo had confessed that even talking about fireworks was a trigger, Tommy had immediately set about putting a ban on them; even threatening his own friends with violence. When Tubbo woke up at night shaking and crying from memories of explosions, Tommy was always happy to drop what he was doing to come and wrap his long, wiry arms around him, and rock him gently as he told stories about all the women that have supposedly fallen in love with him. Tubbo couldn’t even count how many times Tommy had gently taken his hand and steadied him, pulling him out of his thoughts with a smile and a joke. 

And now Tubbo had kicked Tommy out of the very city the two had built together. 

Tubbo tried to force himself to think logically. After everything that had happened, it was hard for him to force down his negative emotions. If he hadn’t exiled Tommy, then there would be another war, and Tubbo didn’t think he could handle that. His body still froze when he heard the click of a crossbow being drawn. He was still sent into panic at the smell of gunpowder. 

He couldn’t even think about his family, which used to be his greatest comfort, without feeling completely trapped and helpless. 

He didn’t think he even had the right to call them his family anymore.

Wilbur was long dead. The good man he had been died when Schlatt became President, and the cruel, manipulative man that had seemingly taken him over died months later to his own father’s sword. The memory of how gentle and sweet Wilbur had been stuck to the back of Tubbo’s mind like poisoned honey, and stood in direct contrast to the monster of a man he had become. Wilbur’s ghost had lingered, but he was just an echo; not even remembering most of their lives. The ghost fled with Tommy, anyways. He always had preferred Tommy over Tubbo.

Technoblade scared him to the point where Tubbo was afraid of even crossing the man’s path. The Piglin’s cold, bored expression only reminded Tubbo of being forced into a tight box in front of a crowd, and the excruciating pain of being blown up during the Festival, but not enough to kill him in one hit. It had taken two hits. Sometimes, Tubbo still remembered how that initial explosion felt. He remembered the smell of his hair and clothes and skin burning. He remembered how Technoblade never even apologized. 

Philza had grown more distant, clearly favoring the rest of his children over Tubbo. There was no surprise there, really. Unlike the other three, Tubbo had only really been part of their family for a handful of years, after they’d found him as a preteen. Wilbur was Philza’s biological child. Technoblade had been found when he was still only a toddler. Tommy was only four, when Philza found him. Tubbo, the outsider, being his last choice was only natural, even if it hurt. Tubbo didn’t think the ache of both of his families willingly turning their backs on him would ever leave him.

Fundy had never been particularly close to him, but now the fox was a walking ball of negative emotions that Tubbo didn’t even know how to approach. Between having his heart crushed by his shithead of an ex, Wilbur refusing to be a proper father to him, and having the only home he had ever known destroyed by his own dad, he was coping with everything even worse than Tubbo was. Tubbo had tried to reach out to him, but he’d only been met with refusal. Fundy was angry, and he didn’t want anything to do with his biological family. He had Eret for a father now. Despite everything, Tubbo was happy for that, at least.

And Tommy. 

Tommy hadn’t even been gone a full day, and Tubbo was already feeling lost. It wasn’t fair how upset that Tubbo was. Tommy had fucked up. Tubbo was sure he’d done the right thing when he banished him. He was positive! It was either exile Tommy, or doom the entire population of L’manburg to death or a life of living powerlessly, with no armor, no weapons, and circled on all sides by cold black stone. 

(Tubbo wondered if the vomit-inducing panic that rose inside of him at the sight of the walls was from normal claustrophobia and fear of Dream, or if that was another result of trauma). 

Tubbo paced around his room, the newly-built wooden floors barely creaking under his light weight. He had taken off his shoes, and the ground was freezing. The suit he was wearing was too big for him; sewn for someone much closer to adulthood than him. Tubbo had tried his best to make it work, but he looked like a child wearing his father’s clothing. He hated it. Hated how scratchy the suit was. Hated what it represented. Hated how it reminded him of how he felt during Schlatt’s regime. 

He hated that he still looked so much like a little kid when he hadn’t felt like one since L’manburg had first been built. Since he’d died for the first time; betrayed by someone he thought he could trust. 

Unable to stand it any longer, Tubbo quickly took off the suit, leaving the fabric crumpled on the floor where he dropped it. He turned and began to dig through his small amount of clothes, trying to find something that felt like it fit him more right. 

His favorite shirt had been destroyed by Technoblade during the Festival, and his second favorite, identical shirt had been destroyed once again in the most recent battle for L’manburg. He found his bee sweater and pulled it on, blinking away the tears that had gathered in his eyes. He wanted to go back. He wanted to just be the kid that his brothers teased for being obsessed with bees. He wanted his family back.

After he was more comfortable, wearing a soft sweater and sweatpants that would keep him warm, he settled down on his bed and buried his face into his knees, wrapping his arms around himself. 

He didn’t want to be President. It fit him as poorly as that damned suit did. None of his people wanted peace. None of his people wanted to listen to a child. None of his people had any faith in him. 

He knew what he did to Tommy was right for the country. He was logical. But it hurt. It hurt, and he regretted it. He wanted his brother back. He wanted to hear his dumb joke and his too-loud laugh and feel his warm hugs. Resigning himself to another rough night in a long series of rough nights, he turned out the lights in the room and curled into the blankets, trying to force himself to stop thinking about how he’d lost the one thing in life that he’d thought he’d never lose: the love of his little brother. 

He was entirely unsurprised when he woke up in the morning with tear tracks on his face and his voice raspy from screams. He had always been a crybaby. His limbs were heavy as he wiped the tears from his puffy face, sniffling. He didn’t remember what he’d dreamed about, but it wasn’t hard to guess. 

Tubbo forced himself to stand up and put the now-wrinkled suit back on, feeling as though the rough fabric were sandpaper shredding his skin like it was tissue, despite it not leaving a mark. He felt raw and fragile, like some newborn thing. He forced those thoughts aside, and splashed cold water on his face, trying his best to erase the evidence of his tears and ignore how it felt like half of him was missing.

He was the President, and he had duties to attend to.

**Author's Note:**

> yes im writing fanfic about minecraft roleplay no i am not ashamed
> 
> i cant stop thinking about how lonely and terrible tubbo must feel.
> 
> taken off anonymous bc idc anymore


End file.
